


Operation Making Christmas

by nagi_schwarz



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen, Possibly Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 03:19:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8781061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: Someone in the science department taught the Athosian children about Christmas. John Sheppard has a plan to bring them Christmas, complete with Christmas trees, reindeer, Santa, presents, and an elf. Rodney is along for the ride.Written for the SGA Secret Santa on LJ.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aqualegia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aqualegia/gifts).



> Thanks to the amazing Brumeier for her excellent beta skills!

“This is quite possibly the stupidest idea you’ve ever had, and you once flew a puddle jumper on a suicide mission to detonate a nuke above the city,” Rodney said.

John took a deep breath. “Look, Jinto and Wex have been asking a lot of questions about Earth traditions, and someone from the science department started filling their heads with ideas about Santa Claus, and it’s cheering up everyone else, all right?”

 _Cheering up_ wasn’t the descriptor Rodney would have chosen, but about a hundred eager-looking Marines were arrayed behind John, awaiting orders, and Rodney sighed.

“Fine. Let’s do this. Just -”

Dr. Raberba, the anthropologist, interrupted before Rodney could issue his warning of _don't go too crazy_. He cleared his throat, and all of the Marines trained their gazes on him like puppies eyeing a jar of peanut butter.

“I spoke to Teyla, and she kindly completed a census of all the Athosian children - who count as children per Athosian cultural norms.” Dr. Raberba had a list, an actual handwritten list.

He was Circassian. Weren’t they blond Muslims? Why was he so excited about Christmas?

But his blue eyes were shining.

“Now,” Dr. Raberba continued, “in my consultation with Teyla, I’ve discovered that, like many hunter-gatherer societies, most children’s toys are geared toward preparing them for adult roles. As such, appropriate toys include practice weapons, target games, farming games, and some dolls.”

Rodney rolled his eyes. Of course the Marines were eager to give toy weapons to little children.

Dr. Raberba produced a scroll from inside his uniform jacket and unrolled it. “Teyla and I prepared a list of age- and a gender-appropriate gifts. To that end, we need several categories of volunteers: woodworkers, metal-workers, sewers, and finishers - including sanding and painting.”

Various Marines raised their hands as Dr. Raberba read off each category, but he lifted a hand to forestall comment.

“I will post the list of work categories in the commissary. Everyone needs to sign up for two categories - designate them one and two, one being your primary skill set, two being your back-up. After a week, Major Lorne and I will distribute work assignments. Understood?”

The Marines chorused a hearty _ooh-rah!_

Rodney should have known that Lorne was enabling John’s madness. Dr. Raberba glanced at John.

“Anything further, Colonel?”

John shook his head. “Nope. All right, troops, Operation Making Christmas is a go!”

The Marines cheered and stampeded after Dr. Raberba, who was heading for the commissary to post the sign-up sheet.

“Way to be a cultural imperialist,” Rodney snapped.

“Way to quote the soft scientists,” John drawled. And he walked away.

 

*

“I thought you said this Santa guy was fat.” Ronon stared down at the red suit, puzzled. Lorne and a handful of his faithful Marines were fitting him with a hand-sewn Santa suit. Where Lorne had found red velvet and white imitation ermine was a mystery for the ages, but then Lorne managed to find just about anything he wanted.

If Rodney weren’t a scientist, he’d suspect the man had magic.

“Look, we’re making a stealth run to New Athos in the middle of the night,” John said. “You need mobility. What’s important is that you’re super tall and you have the red suit. And the red sack.” 

“Athosian houses don’t have chimneys,” Rodney said peevishly. He still couldn’t believe Elizabeth had agreed to this madness.

“Which is why every family with children was instructed to put a Christmas tree outside of their house,” Lorne said patiently.

“There are no pine trees on New Athos,” Rodney pointed out.

One of the Marines stitching the hem of Ronon’s jacket made a sound that was half-cough, half- _Grinch_.

“The kids made their own Christmas trees out of fallen branches,” Lorne said. “I saw it all the time when I was stationed in the Philippines.”

“What about Santa’s big white beard?” one of the other Marines asked. He was polishing Ronon’s black boots.

“Teyla nixed that,” Lorne said. “Might be too reminiscent of the Wraith.” He resumed his report on Operation Making Christmas for John. “Gift construction started one week ago, with the volunteer Marines donating two hours of time each evening. Since skills like sewing and fine painting are a bit thinner on the ground, some of the dolls and more ornately-painted toys are lagging, but construction progress is on schedule at approximately forty per-cent. Doc Raberba says once construction reaches sixty per-cent he’ll start recruiting for Phase II.”

Rodney, whose only contribution to Lorne and his crew of Marine tailors was holding a pincushion shaped like a tomato, raised his eyebrows. “There’s a Phase II?”

“Wrapping the gifts, obviously,” John said.

“Where are we going to find wrapping paper in the Pegasus Galaxy?”

Lorne said, “We’re going to make it.”

“And what about ribbon?”

“Got that covered, too.”

Rodney huffed. “What, did you make the ribbon?”

“Not me personally,” Lorne said.

Rodney stared at him. “You can actually make ribbon?”

“Girls have been wearing ribbon in their hair for centuries, long before there were machines to make it. Of course ribbon can be handmade.” Lorne stared right back at him.

“What kind of a soldier are you?” Rodney demanded.

The Marines surrounding Ronon all paused as one, eyed Rodney.

“He’s the kind of soldier who does what his commanding officer asks him to and does it well,” John said calmly. “Major Lorne, did you draw up that roster like I asked?”

Lorne nodded. “It’s in my jacket pocket, sir. Two fires teams of Marines, led by Major Kash, plus spots for you and Doc McKay.”

The Marines resumed sewing. Ronon looked strangely content, to have half a dozen muscular and armed men fussing over him with needles and scissors and pins. Rodney had thought going to another galaxy would be new and strange. John’s Christmas plans were downright bizarre.

“Not you, Major?” John asked.

“I can be on one of the fire teams if you like, sir.”

“I’d like that.” John reached into Lorne’s jacket pocket and found a rolled piece of paper. What was with rolling all of the Christmas lists?

“Then feel free to scratch off Captain Scottsdale and replace him with me.” Lorne finished a line of stitching and tied it off somehow so Rodney couldn’t see the knot, snipped off the thread.

John found a pen in Lorne’s jacket and made the adjustment. “Excellent. Except, hang on. Two fire teams plus me and Rodney? That’s ten people, not including Ronon as Santa. There are only eight reindeer.”

Rodney squawked. “Reindeer?”

“Doc Zelenka’s making a glowy red nose for Rodney as we speak,” Lorne said calmly.

Rodney watched in disbelief as John actually recited the names of Santa’s reindeer under his breath, counting them off on his fingers as he went.

“Why am I Rudolph?” Rodney protested.

One of the Marines said dutifully, “He’s the most famous reindeer of all.”

Well, when they put it that way.

“That still leaves me,” John said.

Lorne glanced at him, and his expression was so innocent it bordered on angelic. “Santa needs an elf, sir.”

John scratched an ear, expression unreadable.

Rodney smirked. “It’s for the children, John.”

“Fine,” John said. “Where’s my costume?”

“Doctor Naoe has a Link costume we’ve resized to fit you, sir,” one of the Marines told him.

“Wait, costumes?” Rodney echoed. “What kind of costumes?”

Lorne’s expression for Rodney was so damn amused that Rodney was actually afraid. “You’ll see, Doc. You’ll see.”

 

*

Rodney wasn’t sure why John insisted he be present at every major stage of Operation Making Christmas, but when Lorne reported that toy construction had reached sixty per-cent, Rodney found himself in the commissary while Dr. Raberba hoisted himself onto a chair and banged on a saucepan to get everyone’s attention.

“I know many of you have been inquiring about volunteer opportunities for Operation Making Christmas but have felt that you lacked the necessary craftsman skills for the project.” For such a slender, delicate man, Raberba’s voice carried.

Silverware ceased to clink and voices ceased to chatter, and everyone was looking at him.

“The next phase of this Operation requires all hands on deck. What we need, and what we don’t have, is wrapping paper and gift boxes. We’ll need three teams: making paper, assembling the boxes, and printing the paper. Each team will be subdivided to accomplish the tasks necessary to reach the overall team goals. We need at least fifty volunteers for each subdivision. There will be team captains who will direct you, so don’t feel like you need to be an expert. Just show up with a willing heart and a smile, and your efforts will be put to good use. I’ll be posting sign-up sheets on the notice board. Hope to see you there.”

Raberba hopped off the chair and went over to the notice board. He tacked several sheets of paper to the board, and he almost didn’t make it back to where John, Rodney, and Lorne were standing, because people surged out of their seats in a horrific scraping of chairs to go sign up.

Elizabeth, standing beside the chow line, looked pleased. “It’s wonderful to see everyone working together.”

 

*

“Why do you even know how to make paper?” Rodney asked.

Apparently Lorne was very environmentally-conscious and had instituted a paper recycling program his first week on Atlantis. While digital documentation was the preferred method, where there was bureaucracy, there was paper, so Lorne had amassed quite a collection of scrap paper.

He was directing a team of Marines to pulp it and bleach it and make it into new paper.

“Grew up on a commune, Doc. Off the grid. Had to learn how to make a lot of things for ourselves - paper, soap, clothes. Granted, during the warmer months, clothing was optional, so that cut down on the sewing burden.” Lorne stood back and watched the Marines work, wearing an expression like a proud father.

“A commune?” Rodney echoed.

“That explains why you have no tan lines,” Raberba said thoughtfully.

Rodney whipped around to stare at him, but then Raberba and Lorne were chatting about Satedan ink.

Lorne’s team was producing both paper for wrapping and also heavier cardstock for making gift boxes. Because the designs of the toys had been fairly standardized - as standardized as hand-crafted gifts could be - the gift box sizes had also been standardized, which, Rodney could admit, was very efficient and well-planned.

The cardstock was whatever color the recycled paper was raw, but Lorne had a supply of ink to dye the wrapping paper various colors for variety - blue, green, and red being the colors he had at hand.

Lorne rewarded everyone who participated in the paper-making process with a specially-cooked meal - everyone was damp and tired and covered in bits of paper pulp by the end of it - and then it was on to the next step.

Assembling boxes was something Rodney could do, as he had a PhD in Engineering. Lorne was a good enough planner that he’d thought to print the box paper with fold lines built in. Any idiot with a pair of eyes and a pair of hands could make a box. On another designated Sunday, after the paper had had a chance to dry for a week, it was time to put it to use.

Half of the commissary was dedicated to making boxes, the other half to printing the wrapping paper, which involved pre-prepared stencils (Lorne really took that whole Boy Scout thing to a new level), gold spray-paint, and fifty energetic Marines.

Thankfully, someone had the foresight to open the windows and bring fans in. Rodney hadn’t looked forward to the prospect of a bunch of Marines who got high off of their own paint fumes.

Once again, Lorne rewarded the participants with a specially-made meal (if he could cook like this, why was the commissary food so lame?), and then the final phase arrived.

The wrapping of the gifts.

Distributing the gifts, wrapping paper, gift tags, and boxes, took longer than the actual wrapping itself, because enough people had volunteered that everyone only had to wrap one gift. A group of scientists who had, unbeknownst to Rodney, formed a barbershop quartet in their spare time, serenaded the volunteers with Christmas carols while the wrapping occurred. Lorne hadn’t been kidding about making ribbon, either.

Dr. Kusanagi and her friends in the Atlantis Stitch-n-Bitch club had spent the entire time leading up to the gift-wrapping phase making ribbon. And it was beautiful.

“Actually,” Kusanagi explained as she and the others distributed the ribbon for wrapping (once again, there were standardized lengths for each type of box and toy), “it’s called tape lace.”

“The nice thing about it,” Raberba said, “is that if the kids don’t damage it when they unwrap their gifts, the Athosians can trade it.”

Of course they could.

Because there were so many volunteers for the gift-wrapping stage, Lorne couldn’t make a meal, but he did distribute hot cocoa and peppermint sticks for anyone who wanted some (he had honey tea for the barbershop quartet, after they sang for an hour).

“So, that’s it?” Rodney asked. “Presents wrapped, Ronon dresses up, we deliver them?” He was hoping, foolishly, that Lorne had forgotten the elf and the reindeer part.

*

It started to look like Lorne had forgotten. The next time Rodney stopped by the military command office, it was filled with gifts, and a map of the Athosian settlement was spread across both John and Lorne’s desks, which had been pushed together. All of the houses had been marked and labeled, and John and Lorne were squabbling about the most efficient route to take through the settlement to deliver the gifts.

“Wait a second,” Rodney said. “We’re going in the middle of the night?”

“We’re taking a jumper decorated as a sleigh,” John said.

Rodney stared at him.

“We want the experience to be as authentic as possible,” Lorne explained.

“As authentic as - Santa Claus isn’t real!” Rodney threw his hands up.

“I have sleigh bells,” Lorne admitted. “And Teyla instructed the Athosian children to leave treats for Santa and his reindeer.”

John said, “Look, if we start at this end of the settlement and work our way in approximate rows, we’ll finish more quickly, and the jumper will be pointed in the direction we want to go when we’re done.”

“You’re all crazy.” Rodney spun on his heel and stomped out of the office.

*

“You’re all crazy,” Rodney said as he stared at Lorne and his seven chosen Marines. All of them were wearing what looked like brown jumpsuits, headbands with antlers affixed, and had the tips of their noses painted black.

The tac vests and guns all of them were wearing made the effect even more bizarre.

Zelenka held out what looked like a red rubber ball but was, in fact, a red nose. With an LED inside of it. That blinked. “You can tie it on with an elastic, or I believe Lieutenant Manjekstav has some gum arabic to stick it to your face.”

Lieutenant Manjekstav, dressed as a reindeer and checking his tac vest pockets for extra C4, looked up and smiled. “I was a theater major in college, Doc.”

Rodney had his arms full with his brown jumpsuit and antler headband. He opened his mouth to complain, and then John stepped into the room.

Rodney burst out laughing. John was wearing white pants that looked sort of like riding pants, knee-high boots, a green tunic, and a pointed green cap. And someone had made his ears even pointier.

A couple of the Marines ducked their heads to hide smiles.

Lieutenant Manjekstav, however, looked anxious. “Are the ears all right? Did I make them too pointy?”

“They’re fine,” John said. He turned to Rodney. “Are you done?”

Rodney couldn’t talk, he was laughing so hard.

John rolled his eyes. “Go get changed. You’re holding us up.” But he was blushing ever so faintly as he turned to address Lorne about the organizing of the presents. Lorne had separated all of the presents into smaller bags inside Ronon’s giant red sack, each bag for a single family, so the right presents could be delivered to the right tree. They’d fudged the Christmas tradition a little, so instead of a star atop each tree, there was a kind of homemade family crest so each family could be identified, since the Athosians didn’t have street names or numbered houses (or really even streets for that matter).

Rodney ducked into a side room to pull on his reindeer outfit, and then he returned to the office. Lorne fussed over his antlers while Lieutenant Manjekstav stuck the blinking red globe to Rodney’s nose, and then it was time to depart.

John helped Rodney affix his thigh holster.

“Do we really need to do this strapped?” Rodney asked. “We’re just delivering presents.”

“It’s protocol,” John said. “Off-world travel requires armed escort, no exceptions.”

“Because delivering presents is protocol,” Rodney muttered.

But John led the way through the halls in mission-silence. Rodney had never figured out how Marines could move so quietly in their giant combat boots, but they made it to the jumper bay undetected.

The jumper, as promised, had been painted red - Lorne assured him the paint was temporary - and sleigh runners had been affixed to the bottom. Everyone piled in, and of course John was the one who piloted the jumper through the gate to New Athos.

While John steered the jumper toward the settlement, they discussed the present-leaving process for the final time: John would park the jumper along one ‘road’, and Rodney would lead the way out of the jumper first, with his red nose and all. Lorne and the Marines would follow in four ranks, two to a rank, and Ronon and John would bring up the rear. They would approach a house, John would ring the sleigh bells, Ronon would leave the gifts under the tree, John would collect whatever treats the children had left, and on to the next house they’d go. Lather, rinse, repeat.

It sounded simple. But then John landed the jumper and lowered the hatch, and the Marines and Lorne marshalled themselves into neat ranks with barely a thought, and Rodney couldn’t do it.

He stood at the front of the line, and he couldn’t move.

“Rodney,” John hissed.

“I can’t go out there!” Rodney hissed back. “I have a glowing red nose!”

“You’re Rudolph,” Captain Callahan said, unhelpfully.

“It’s for the children, Doc,” Lorne reminded him.

Lieutenant Littrell solved the problem by prodding Rodney in the spine and pushing him out of the jumper. And just like that, Operation Making Christmas: the Final Phase had commenced. John had the map of the settlement and the legend for each family’s Christmas tree topper, and he directed Rodney to the first house.

The little homemade Christmas trees looked pretty good, were made of gathered branches and twigs and affixed to a central trunk made of some kind of post or heavy dowel, trimmed into the shape of a conifer, and decorated. Some of the decorations were paper chains, some were seeds and pretty stones strung up and hung on the branches. Someone had made tiny dolls of Ronon, Rodney, John, and Teyla and hung them on one tree. Rodney wondered who’d showed them how to make the trees and decorate them, how long the process had taken.

The Marines spread out and formed a protective perimeter while John and Ronon poked through Ronon’s sack for the right gifts. Once the gifts were arranged under the tree, John rang the little sleigh bells Lorne had given him, and he found a small wrapped package upon which someone had written, in shaky letters in passable English, _Santa N Hiz Deers_.

Then the soldiers re-formed their ranks - Rodney at their head - and they tip-toed to the next house.

And - it was fun, actually. All the thrill of sneaking around in the darkness, none of the terror of a possible Wraith encounter. After the second house, Rodney was given the honor of ringing the bells, because John’s hands were getting full with holding packages of treats. Ronon even managed a deep, booming _ho ho ho_ at each house, which was a very nice touch.

Only Ronon whispered, “Why does Santa say _ho?_ Lieutenant Wolfe told me a ho is a woman who -”

Lorne reached out and smacked one of the Marines upside the head, and the other Marines snickered softly.

“For the record,” John whispered to Ronon, “don’t ever repeat that, and never, ever call a woman that, not if you value your life.”

They discovered it was easier to just walk the entire settlement instead of going back to the jumper after they’d finished leaving presents on every ‘street’, so they walked the entire settlement on foot.

Since the settlement wasn’t very large, they were finished in under four hours - Lorne had projected five hours - and back on the jumper ready to depart for the gate. They’d loaded all the troops on board and Rodney’s feet were sore, but he felt pretty good about what they’d done. He was a little sad that none of them would get to see the kids’ faces when they found their gifts.

Lieutenant Littrell had apparently sung in his church choir as a child, as had Lieutenant Wolfe, and both of them started in on a lovely rendition of _Angels We Have Heard On High_. Captain Callahan, Lieutenant Manjekstav, Lieutenant O’Connor, and Major Rastaban sang a soft accompaniment, and their ability to harmonize was startling. Did they sing together often? When they segued into _Baby It’s Cold Outside_ , Major Kash took up the woman’s part, and her voice was sweet and clear.

Major Lorne, who apparently had no musical skill, was sitting beside John in the copilot seat. He was explaining he had hot cocoa, eggnog, and other treats for anyone who wanted some back in his quarters on Atlantis, when he broke off.

“Sir, down there. Is that -?”

The jumper halted.

John pulled up the life signs detector. “There are people down at the gate.”

“All of the Athosians are asleep in their beds,” Lorne said. “Teyla instructed them to - unless there was a last-minute hunting party? For a Christmas feast?”

Major Rastaban said, “Call up the exterior image scanners.”

Rodney blinked. “The what?”

The HUD screens shuffled, and Rodney saw, in movie-like clarity, an image of the people moving around on the ground.

“Since when can the jumpers do that?” Rodney asked.

“I’m a natural gene-carrier.” Major Rastaban came to stand behind Lorne’s chair. He had dark skin and fine features and spoke with a British accent; no one asked why he was in the American armed forces.

Lorne said, “Sir, those people aren’t wearing Athosian clothes.”

“They’re headed for the settlement,” Major Rastaban said.

“Let’s cut them off,” John said.

“How many are there?” Lorne asked.

John scanned the displays. “Enough to take on the entire settlement while everyone is asleep. At least a hundred of them.”

“There’s only eleven of us,” Rodney protested.

Lorne was on his feet, checking his weapons with practiced calm. “We have a jumper, and we have drones.”

Major Rastaban and the rest were checking their weapons and tac vests as well.

“What’s the plan, sir?” Major Kash asked.

“We ask them nicely to turn around and go home,” John said, “or we make them go home. Ronon, you and Lorne are with me. Kash, take Callahan and O’Connor. Rastaban, take Manjekstav and Wolfe. Littrell, you and Rodney stay with the jumper. Fire on my command.”

“Yes, sir.” Lieutenant Littrell slid into the pilot seat, and Rodney took the copilot seat.

John opened one of the stash boxes and distributed additional magazines of ammo. “Take us down, let us out, then fix a vantage point where you can take out their people.”

Rodney shouldn’t have been surprised when Ronon reached into his Santa suit and came up with his massive blaster pistol.

Lieutenant Littrell guided the jumper down to the ground smoothly. The strangers hadn’t seen the jumper because John had cloaked it, and Littrell kept it cloaked. John, Ronon, and the other soldiers stepped out of the jumper and vanished into the trees. Once all of them were gone, Littrell brought the jumper back up so they could see the clearing around the gate.

There was no sign of any ships, so these strangers must have come through the gate.

Rodney poked around the HUDs, trying to call up the display that Major Rastaban had found. Between Rodney’s reading of the menu options on the display and his own mental connection to the jumper, he discovered that the jumper had what amounted to its own dashboard cam. And it could record.

Rodney poked some more and discovered that he could access sound. While Lieutenant Littrell watched out the window, Rodney studied the screen.

John, flanked by Ronon and Lorne, emerged from the trees.

“Hey, nice evening for a stroll, isn’t it? Little bit late, though. Isn’t it past your bedtime? My grandmother always said nothing good happens after midnight.” John’s tone was calm, friendly.

The leader of the strangers was a man who rivaled Ronon in height and breadth, wearing curious metal armor over dark leather.

“You are not Athosian,” he said.

John shrugged. “We’re friends of the Athosians.”

“No friend of the Athosian is any friend of ours,” the man snarled.

Ronon said, “They’re Bola Kai. They’re wanderers. Prey on settlements. Leave nothing behind.”

“Well, after all that effort we went to to bring the Athosians Christmas, we can’t let these guys ruin it,” John said.

The Bola Kai leader sneered at him. “Who are you?”

“I’m Buddy the Elf,” John said. “This is Santa Claus, and this is one of his reindeer -”

“I’m Dasher, sir,” Lorne supplied helpfully.

Lieutenant Littrell peered at the display. “Is Colonel Sheppard always like this?”

“You have no idea,” Rodney muttered.

The Bola Kai leader looked confused. “I have never heard of any such warriors.”

“We only come around on Christmas,” John said easily. “Christmas is a very special time, and we get pretty peeved if anyone ruins it. So why don’t you turn around and go back to where you came from and stay away from this planet. Forever.”

“Why should we?”

“Because we will light your asses up like a Christmas tree if you don’t.”

“There are only three of you.”

“That you can see.”

The Bola Kai leader lunged at John. Rodney’s heart skipped a beat.

John sidestepped neatly, drew his pistol from his thigh-holster, and whipped the Bola Kai leader across the back of his head with it.

The man staggered, spun around, drew what looked like a sword.

John said, “Littrell, now!”

Lieutenant Littrell fired a single drone into the clearing.

“Don’t hit the gate!” Rodney snapped. “Naquadah is highly explosive!”

“I got that, Doc,” Lieutenant Littrell murmured.

The drone struck the ground with a boom and a fiery explosion.

The Bola Kai were sent into disarray, shouting and panicking and running around.

“Next time,” John said, “we’ll aim for your people.”

The Bola Kai leader’s eyes were wide with terror. But he stiffened his spine and ordered his troops back through the gate.

“We will remember this offense, Buddy the Elf, and we will have our vengeance.”

John called after him, “Merry Christmas!”

Once every single Bola Kai had vanished through the gate, Lieutenant Littrell landed the jumper in the clearing, gathered everyone up, and back to Atlantis they went.

They gathered in Lorne’s quarters for hot cocoa and eggnog, and Lorne orchestrated a mini photo-shoot of everyone in their costumes before it was time to retire for the night.

Teyla departed for the Athosian mainland in the morning to celebrate Christmas with her people while Atlantis celebrated Christmas as well.

When she returned a few days later, she brought photographs of Jinto and Wex opening presents, the Athosian Christmas feast, and reports of how grateful the children were to receive such lovely gifts, and how some of the older children had seen a large man in a red suit with nine reindeer - including Rudolph, with his bright nose - and an elf delivering presents. They had seen his red sleigh and heard his sleigh bells, and now they believed in Santa.

“Well done,” Rodney said to John. “You’ve engaged in cultural imperialism and infected an entire generation of alien children with an Earth-based delusion.” They were sitting at their regular table in the commissary, eating lunch.

“Come on,” John protested. “You have to admit it was fun.”

Rodney had to do no such thing. But he might have blushed a little. He cleared his throat. “What do you think Raberba and Lorne are going to come up with for Easter?”

John smiled lazily. “You just want to see me dressed up as a bunny.”

Rodney spluttered. “I do not!” But secretly he kind of did.

And then Captain Callahan and his team of Marines (plus Dr. Maxwell the zoologist) returned from an offworld mission where they’d encountered a people who were terrified of Santa Claus, Buddy the Elf, and the Reindeer, who were fierce warriors and had defeated the Bola Kai in battle.

Captain Callahan managed to deliver his report with a straight face.

Elizabeth looked at the written report (brief summary on top, detailed report below, plus exhibits), then raised her eyebrows at John and Rodney. She flipped past the detailed report to the exhibits, which were drawings of a man who looked passably like John dressed as Link, though the pointiness of his ears was greatly exaggerated; a monster who in no way resembled Ronon but rather resembled Hagrid in a Santa suit and carrying a rocket launcher; and a mutant version of Lorne, with his face recognizable but terrifying spikes growing out of his head and his body covered in tac vest pockets.

Elizabeth arrayed the drawings on her desk for John to see. “You said Christmas was uneventful.”

“Lorne included an encounter with the Bola Kai in his report,” John said.

“The who?”

“Ronon recognized them,” Rodney said.

Elizabeth sighed. “What am I going to do with you two?”

John said, “Put us on the naughty list next year?”

Elizabeth actually threw her pen at him. “Get out of my office. Come back with a detailed report in half an hour.”

John ducked out of her office, Rodney on his heels. John headed for the nearest transporter, radioing for Ronon and Lorne. Rodney was pretty sure he could hear Elizabeth laughing.

Best Christmas ever.


End file.
